The Sausage Roll & Hedgehog Configuration
by angelically-devilish
Summary: Hermione/Remus-On any normal day, living under the same roof as six men—two of whom had a penchant for mischief making while the remaining four enjoyed a good joke far beyond the levels of common decency—was perilous enough for Hermione Granger's psyche. April Fool's Day, however, was always another matter entirely.


_**A/N:** Well aware I should be updating things I already have, but I just couldn't resist this one. It was left over from an April Fool's challenge I never finished, and while I'm well aware it's not April Fool's, I figured I'd be a rebel._

_It's a bit scattered-as well as unbeta'd-so please bear with me as [most of] you have for the past several years._

* * *

**The Sausage Roll & Hedgehog Configuration**

Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age and fearless member of the Golden Trio, thought—in the bright, blinding light of hindsight—that she really, _really_ ought to have known better.

She had been heightened alert all day, which made her current situation—hanging helplessly from the ceiling gripping an equally-dismayed werewolf and what had once been her favourite purple and lime green umbrella—all the more embarrassing. She was usually far more diligent on April Fool's Day.

"Well," her companion said, his face mere millimetres from hers. "This is _quite_ the conundrum."

Hermione sighed, face flushing in mortification. On any normal day, living under the same roof as six men—two of whom had a penchant for mischief making while the remaining four enjoyed a good joke far beyond the levels of common decency—was perilous enough for her psyche.

April Fool's Day, however, often ended with Hermione seriously considering leaving Grimmauld Place, if only to put some distance between psychologically-damaging situations like this and her fragile sanity.

Thinking back, she wondered when the precise moment was that she had fallen into a state of blissful complacency. That would have been the moment when the klaxon-like warning sirens should have gone off to signal her evening was not going to go the way she planned…

* * *

Hermione returned back to the house determined to make it through the rest of the evening without embarrassing herself. She managed to make her way through the obstacle course of trick stairs, magically-moderating doorframes and the ever-present screaming banshee portrait to get to the kitchen. She planned on grabbing a cup of tea before retreating to her room, locking the door, and burying her nose in the latest paperback romance she had picked up.

As she walked through the swinging door, she was immediately confronted with the sight of her redheaded ex-boyfriend about to tuck into a suspiciously delicious-looking sausage roll.

Had it been a normal day, she would have been content to let him deal with the consequences of his negligence, knowing that at best the pastry was harmless and at worst, an experiment left by a pair of careless—but not malicious—entrepreneurs.

As it was April Fool's Day, however, Hermione knew the twins tended to toe the line between funny and cruel with their pranks—especially where their unsuspecting youngest brother was involved—and so she decided against allowing what would be a well-deserved life lesson and gave a loud, shrill shriek,

"Ron!"

Her less-conscientious friend froze at the sound of her voice, allowing Hermione to rush over and extract the potentially disastrous baked good from his grasp before giving him a look, "Really, Ronald, don't you realize what day it is?"

He blinked back blankly, "Uh…Monday?"

His thick-headedness had her sincerely debating the merit of just letting him eat the pastry. But his bleary-eyed, unfocused stare told her that he probably _didn't_ know what day it was. Newly-engaged, Ron had been pulling extra shifts with the Auror department, saving up for a house for himself and Luna. So she took pity on him and decided, not for the first time in the many years they had known each other, to save him from himself.

Walking over to prepare herself the cup of tea she had been craving, she carefully placed the sausage roll back on the plate of sausage rolls that sat enticingly on the sideboard, kindly saying, "It's April Fool's Day, Ron."

His brow furrowed and Hermione waited, saying nothing and simply arching an eyebrow as she waited for the kettle to boil. Realization dawned only a few seconds later and he looked at the offending food with ill-disguised disgust, grumbling, "Now that's just cruel. Ruining a perfectly good sausage roll with sodding April Fool's pranks…"

"Yes, well, we all have to live with life's little disappointments," Hermione said mildly, shaking her head slightly at the fact that her friend was far more distraught at the waste of food than the intent behind its ruining.

Some things never changed.

The kitchen door then opened, and a pair of ginger heads peeked around, twin grins upon their faces. They looked incredibly disappointed, however, with what they saw and drifted into the room with a practiced air of nonchalance that Hermione could see right through. She watched, wary, as they flanked their younger brother with looks that clearly read trouble with a capital 'T'.

"Hello Ronald," George said, throwing an arm around the younger man with an air of camaraderie. "What's doing?"

"You look like you could use a drink," Fred added, putting a bottle of firewhisky on the table. Hermione could have sworn he hadn't had it when he had walked in.

"And something to eat," George finished and Hermione had to jump out of the way as the twin summoned the plate of sausage rolls from the sideboard.

Ron glared at his brothers, growling, "I'm not eating your bloody magicked sausage rolls, you wankers."

Fred pretended to be highly affronted, "There's no calling for rudeness, Ron."

"Yeah. We have feelings, mate."

"Somewhere."

"Deeply buried."

"Beneath all of the brilliance."

"And here you go, calling us wankers."

"And on our _birthday_!"

"Oh for pity's sake," Hermione sighed, giving the boys the look their banter deserved. "You both have all the subtlety of a herd of water buffalo, you do. Can't you see the poor man's exhausted? Leave him alone."

The twins gaped at her, one sputtering, "_A herd of water buffalo_?!" while the other said an incredulous, "_Subtlety_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Trust you to latch onto the salient points of a conversation," she muttered.

She knew the twins well enough to know they had a witty response to her sarcasm, but the door opened once more and the dishevelled ebony head of the Boy-Who-Lived all but stumbled in. Harry wasn't pulling double shifts, but seemed in a perpetual state of exhaustion nevertheless, due primarily to Ginny.

Because of her demanding schedule with the Holyhead Harpies—both on the pitch and all of the strings that go with being a sport celebrity taking much of her time off of it—she kept odd hours, leaving precious little time with her boyfriend. Hermione always knew when Ginny had snuck in and stayed over, because Harry would be completely knackered for the rest of the day.

The twins, however, didn't seem fazed by Harry's apparent fatigue, and sprang lightly to their feet.

"Sausage roll, Harry," George said keenly, all but shoving the plate into Harry's face.

Hermione shook her head, muttering, "Yup. Water buffalo."

Harry, who had jerked back slightly to avoid getting hit by the dishware, heaved a huge yawn and said, "No thanks."

Nothing if not persistent, Fred continued, "Are you sure? Fresh baked. I think Mum dropped them off."

The scent of buttery pastry wafted through the air and Hermione noticed the tip of Fred's wand moving suspiciously behind his back. Looking at Harry, she saw the subtle flare of his nostrils as he inhaled the magicked scent. Harry was excessively fond of Mrs. Weasley's sausage rolls, and normally found them difficult to resist.

She saw his resolve start to crack. "Well…maybe just one…"

"Harry," Hermione said softly, knowing that Ginny had a match that evening and was unlikely to look favourably upon anyone who hindered her boyfriend's attendance. "It's April Fool's Day."

In spite of being half-asleep, Harry backed away from the sausage rolls immediately, though there was some regret in his eyes about it. As if to illustrate this, he growled, "You bastards."

George groaned, giving Hermione a withering look, "Really? Will you let _no one_ have a little fun?"

"Well, I'll tell you what. _You_ take a bite and we'll see how much fun we'll all have," she replied dryly.

Fred sighed, "Must you be such a goody-goody, Granger?"

"It's getting to be a rather unattractive trait of yours," George added.

"And if we're perfectly honest—"

"—it's down-right irritating."

"Well, _someone_ needs to be the moral minority in this house," she sniffed, unfazed by their annoyance because she knew they would forgive and forget by the following day. "Some of us appreciate decorum. And _tact_."

Fred rolled his eyes. "And _celibacy_, apparently."

Before Hermione could protest this admittedly-accurate slur regarding her non-existent sex life, the twins left the room, leaving her rather cross.

"I don't understand why they have to be so _mean_ when they don't get their way," she huffed to no one in particular.

"Their world view is slightly skewed. I shouldn't take it personally," Harry replied.

Ron sighed. "Now I want sausage rolls," he grumbled, looking longingly at the plate as if contemplating the pros and cons.

Hermione shook her head, though a smile threatened her bad temper. Leave Ron and his non sequiturs to lighten her mood.

"You could always go home and ask your mum to make you some," Harry said, seemingly unfazed by Ron's apparent lack of attention to the conversation at hand.

Ron considered the idea. "Well, I _do_ need to speak to Dad about something…"

He was already moving toward the floo.

Hermione chuckled, turning toward to the abandoned, now-whistling kettle, but spun back when she heard an almighty splash, followed by a roar of blushingly-specific curses from the now-completely-drenched Ron Weasley.

"I swear to Merlin's great hairy ball sack that I am going to filet those Goddamn sons of…" Hermione cringed, relieved when Ron's curses were silenced by the sound of the floo activating.

She looked at the fireplace for a moment, curiosity getting the better of her as she moved forward to examine it. She took the poker from the side of the fireplace and shoved it into the ashes. She was barely able to jump back as a cascade of cold water crashed to the floor before dissipating into nothingness, leaving the kitchen floor dry.

She turned to Harry, "Is that a..."

"Movement-activated waterfall charm?" he finished, not looking at her as he prepared a cup of tea for himself. "Yup."

"Very clever spell-casting. Doesn't quite feel like the twins' style, though."

"It doesn't, does it?"

She arched a knowing eyebrow. "You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?"

He looked at her, eyes brimming with innocence, "Why would I ever do that?"

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head as she picked up one of the sausage rolls and examined it, "I can't say I'm upset that I stopped the two of you from eating this, but I must admit I _am_ curious to see what this does."

"Curious to see what what does?" a voice said and the two turned to see Sirius and Remus walk through the door. The question had come from the good-natured, raven-haired owner of Grimmauld Place who, along with his handsome sandy-haired compatriot, looked from Hermione to Harry with interest.

Harry took the sausage roll from Hermione and tossed it to Sirius, "Eat this."

Sirius caught it, looked at it, and shrugged, "Don't mind if I do."

"Uh…Pads, I wouldn't…" Remus warned but it was too late. With a cry of surprise, the five-foot-ten, twelve-stone aristocrat turned into a significantly smaller but undeniably more adorable black hedgehog.

Remus sighed, finishing the now-redundant sentence with, "…eat that."

"Huh," Hermione said, tilting her head to the side as the Hedgehog-Formally-Known-As-Sirius-Black scurried along the kitchen floor. "Now _that_ seems more like the twins."

"Was there any doubt?" Remus asked with a chuckle, gingerly walking around his best friend to examine the plate of sausage rolls.

"Well, Harry managed to set up a movement-activated waterfall in the floo, so really, we've just descended into anarchy," she replied, trying to stop her gaze from following Remus's every move.

Living with men in general was frustrating enough for her under-sexed, single state, but for Hermione Granger—who had long-since realized that her school girl "crush" on Remus had developed into a very _un_-school girl _lust_—living with the broad-shouldered, lithe-limbed werewolf was simply pure torture.

Sirius the hedgehog skittered over, bumping into Remus's leg.

"You know, the twins have a point about you and your big mouth," Harry commented darkly, obviously not wanting anyone else to know about his rather ingenious prank.

She arched an eyebrow. "I didn't hear you complaining when me and my big mouth stopped _you_ from becoming a hedgehog."

The current hedgehog-in-residence bumped into Remus's leg again.

Remus, ignoring Sirius's incessant attempts to get his attention, was gazing wistfully at the fireplace. "Sirius and I were going to floo to Hogsmeade for a pint. Much easier than apparating. There's always a crowd and I'd hate to get splinched to someone."

"I suppose that depends on who you get splinched to," Hermione heard herself say teasingly. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could see a flicker of something in Remus's amber eyes at her words.

Then he grinned slightly, "That's a valid point." Hermione wondered if she was just imagining the husky tone to his voice, or the sideways glance he cast her when he thought she wasn't looking.

"You have to look out for that," Harry said solemnly, oblivious as he tried to sell the travel-by-floo angle, in spite of losing the element of surprise. "Splinching, I mean. Just last year, Justin Finch-Fletchley accidentally apparated into Marcus Belby and it took the whole month for the healers at St. Mungo's to unsplinch them. Terrible business."

"Yes, but…aren't they dating now, though?" Hermione asked, too distracted by Sirius's small, round body waddling adorably to notice the smouldering look Remus sent her.

Harry, again obtuse, glared at her. "Not the point, 'Mione."

Hermione, taking pity on the poor, ignored hedgehog running circles around Remus's long legs, picked him up and deposited him on the table. He gave a tiny squeak which she assumed meant his thanks.

Remus, however, seemed to be focused on the fireplace. "Maybe if I use an anti-permeability charm…"

"Or, you know, an umbrella," Hermione suggested, somewhat sarcastically.

Remus gave her an amused look. "Are you suggesting that I willingly touch an _accessory_ that has been in a _common_ area of this house on _this_ day, of all days?"

She grinned. "You present a good point."

"Besides," he added, turning back to the fireplace. "The only umbrella available is your hideous purple and lime green one. I'd rather splinch myself into Lucius Malfoy."

"I'd ask you not insult the outward appearance of my umbrella, thank you very much," Hermione said, though she wasn't nearly as wounded as she made herself sound. "I'm very fond of my brolly, and the reason why I have one in such _unconventional_ colours is because I don't want _you_ lot stealing it."

Harry snorted into his tea. "No chance of that happening, 'Mione. That umbrella reminds me of the wallpaper at Aunt Muriel's house."

Hermione crossed her arms, looking at her grinning best friend. "Don't you have a Quidditch game to go to?" she asked.

He paled slightly, cursing, and without a word dashed out of the kitchen.

Remus chuckled, his eyes shining with the now-familiar mixture of paternal and professorial pride that he often reserved solely for Harry. Then he turned to Hermione, and his eyes shifted from the light amber hue of laughter to a darker, richer honey colour of an emotion that Hermione wasn't entirely sure she recognized.

"I suppose a pint in Hogsmeade with a hedgehog would be a little too eccentric, even for a Hogwarts professor, huh?" he said softly.

She smiled, "Oh, I don't know. You may get a gaggle of seventh years tripping over themselves to coo over how cute Sirius is."

He cringed. "No part of that sounds enjoyable."

"True, though Sirius does love being the centre of attention…ouch!"

She glared down at the hedgehog, who she had been petting, and saw it giving her the hedgehog equivalent of Sirius's patented haughty glare. She looked at her finger, which he had nipped in indignation.

Remus's hand curled around hers, his long fingers gentle against her skin as he examined her. While the pain was fleeting, Hermione felt in that moment that Sirius could have taken her finger off and she wouldn't have felt a thing. Remus's touch was magic.

His fingers danced over her palm, work-roughened pads sliding up her wrist. She hoped he couldn't feel how her pulse jumped at his touch. His eyes captured hers and she felt something deep within her tell her that if he were to press her against the worn but sturdy wood of the table and have his way with her, she wouldn't even care that they would be witnessed by his best friend-cum-hedgehog.

"Oh good! Someone has enjoyed a sausage roll!"

The twins, however, she definitively did _not_ want as witnesses.

Jumping away from Remus, Hermione focused her energy back on the twin mischief-makers and Sirius, who had started jumping up and down and squeaking angrily when the twins had appeared at the door. It would have been funny if Hermione wasn't convinced that Sirius was, even at that moment, plotting appropriate revenge on the grinning redheads.

"Who ate the sausage roll?" George asked.

"Sirius," Hermione replied.

Fred's eyes lit up, "Really? We didn't think we'd get him this year."

"He was ambushed. Trusted his godson a little too much," Remus explained.

"How long do the effects last?" Hermione asked.

George scratched his head, looking down at Sirius, "Not sure. Didn't really…test it."

The squeaking started again, along with much bouncing, and Hermione was now certain that Sirius's payback would be far less subtle than a sausage roll and likely far more painful than transfiguration.

"I for one do not want to be here when it wears off," Remus said, turning his attention to the fascinated twins, adding, "And if the two of you knew what was good for you, you'd make yourselves scarce for at least twenty-four hours…longer if that spell lasts for longer than a day."

Hermione noticed the nervous glances the twins sent each other. She took a step toward them, narrowing her eyes. "You _are_ certain it's temporary, aren't you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well…" Fred started.

"I suppose that depends," George finished.

"On what, exactly?"

"On what your definition of 'temporary' is."

"_George!_"

"We're not saying it's _not_ temporary—"

"—but we can't state with certainty that it's not _not_ temporary."

"_Fred!_"

"Sirius is going to kill you," Remus said, his voice just on the edge of laughing because Sirius was bouncing and squeaking what Hermione could only imagine to be highly colourful and insulting language in hedgehog-speak.

Then, as if illustrating his discontent, Sirius rolled off the table and waddled as angrily as a hedgehog could waddle into the darkened pantry.

"Perhaps you should make that several days, boys," Hermione suggested. "And if, heaven forbid, there's no immediate solution for Sirius's…transformation, I suggest leaving the country for a bit."

"Though, I doubt there's anywhere you could go where he wouldn't eventually find you. Even in hedgehog form," Remus added.

The twins, clearly agreeing with the werewolf's assessment of Sirius's character, exchanged another look before exiting swiftly. Hermione shook her head, scooping up the cooling kettle and making herself the tea she had come in for originally. Between the sausage rolls, the hedgehog, and the poor treatment of her umbrella, she had become even more resolved to lock herself in her bedroom for the rest of the night. It seemed like the most logical course of action, given the circumstances.

"I don't suppose this means they'll recall their other pranks around the house?" Remus asked as Hermione put milk and sugar into her mug.

She laughed. "Oh, if wishing made it so."

He sighed, pouring himself a cup of tea. "I don't really feel like dragging myself through four floors of nonsense, especially if it's _untested_ nonsense."

"I doubt they have anything quite as elaborate as the sausage rolls set up. Not after Percy's visit to St. Mungo's last year. Molly gave them an earful about that."

"I'm all for a good laugh, but they honestly should have known better than to put blast-ended skrewts under the floorboards."

"I'm honestly glad the house didn't catch fire. But they did learn their lesson so I expect the path is fairly clear." She shot him small smile as she took a sip of her beverage. Perfect. "I'm heading up to my room, if you'd like a guide through at least two floors of nonsense."

He bowed. "I would be honoured by your company, m'lady."

"Do you think we should bring Sirius with us?"

Remus glanced thoughtfully behind him at the pantry, taking a drink of his own tea as he contemplated, then looked at her with a lopsided smile. "I think it's probably wise for us to leave him as he is. I do not want to be around him if…_when_ the spells wears off."

Hermione couldn't help but agree, although she was slightly preoccupied with trying to ignore how quivery she became when Remus's hair flopped boyishly into his face.

Focusing on the obstacle course in front of them with a new-found diligence, Hermione and Remus carefully navigated the first staircase. He was nearly flush against her back as they moved, which would have been highly erotic had they both not been worrying about the stairs beneath them suddenly starting a twin-inspired uprising. But they reached the first floor without incident.

The second set of stairs was a bit trickier, due to the additional stealth necessary to get past the dreaded Mrs. Black. On several occasions, Remus had to steady Hermione as she balanced precariously trying to hop from one narrow, uncharmed stair to another. She felt her skin heat under his touch, his proximity flooding her nostrils with the scent of _him_, and he smelled delicious.

By the time they reached her door—marked so by the troll foot umbrella stand holding her equally unique umbrella—Hermione's skin was covered in a thin layer of goose bumps. Determined not to embarrass herself by doing something as conspicuous as blushing, she turned to wish her companion a good evening.

She was stopped, however, by a soft yet assertive pair of lips on hers.

Though her mind was momentarily stunned by this action, her body reacted immediately. Their mugs clattered to the floor, forgotten tea seeping into the ancient floorboards. As his arms wrapped around her waist, hers moved to wind around his neck, fingers burying in his soft, sandy hair. He deepened the kiss and she sighed, wondering if she had somehow made it up to her room unscathed, fallen asleep, and was now in the midst of a rather life-like dream.

Or perhaps they were in the midst of a rather cruel April Fool's prank.

She pulled away sharply at that thought, leaving him looking rather dazed as her brain whirled in thought. This behaviour was much too inhibited for either of them. Neither had acknowledged anything but friendship with the other; they certainly had never verbalized anything more. Why on earth, then, were they kissing like overzealous teenagers in the hallway of the house?

"I think we've been pranked," she said when he gave her a questioning look.

His brow furrowed. "Why do you think that?"

"The tea. I think it…causes us to do things we wouldn't normally do."

"Like what, exactly."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you telling me that you actually _wanted_ to kiss me?"

His face suddenly turned very cautious. "Are you telling me you didn't want to kiss me back?"

She was not expecting that answer. "Are you…so you _did_ want to kiss me?"

He gave her a funny look. "'Mione…I'm mad about you. I wasn't sure I should say anything but then we walked up here and suddenly I felt compelled to kiss you and I was delighted when you kissed me back." He paused, taking a deep breath. "But perhaps it was the tea. If you didn't want to…that is to say, if you were compelled against your will—"

"No!" she all but screamed, cutting him off blushingly. "I mean…I'm mad about you too."

He smiled his lopsided grin again. "Yeah?"

She laughed. "Of course, you silly man." And as if to illustrate her point, she grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him close, sealing her lips over his once more and amending her earlier plans by going into her room _with him_, locking the door, and then ignoring the paperback romance completely in favour of a rather more practical experience.

It was at that point, however, that a chain reaction occurred. In their enthusiasm, Hermione and Remus stumbled, bumping into the umbrella stand which then tipped over, causing the umbrella to roll toward the stairs. On a normal day Hermione would have left it to roll down the stairs but as it was April Fool's—and neither she nor Remus wanted particularly to see what each trick stair actually did—both moved to snatch the umbrella up before it set anything off.

Which was how the pair ended up hanging helplessly from the ceiling, gripping each other and the damn favourite purple and lime green umbrella.

"I really should have seen something like this coming," she said softly after five minutes of thoughtful silence. "The twins hate this umbrella."

"I think it's safe to say that _all_ members of this household hate this umbrella, darling," Remus said with a chuckle, and Hermione couldn't be mad at his observation when he couched with such a nice endearment.

"Hanging upside down, though, is not quite the twins' style," she said.

"No," Remus replied. "But I know a hedgehog who likes to hang people by their ankles."

"I'm _not_ a bloody hedgehog!"

The sound of the enraged animagus bounced off the walls and both Remus and Hermione flinched as Sirius's heavy footfalls—mixed with Mrs. Black's banshee-like wails and her son's subsequent, and very colourful, replies—sounded. Hermione was glad they wouldn't be upside down for much longer; she could feel herself getting slightly dizzy.

"Pads, be a lad and let us down, will you?" Remus asked mildly.

"Not until you tell me where those menaces to society are hiding," the pureblood answered angrily.

"Can we tell you after you let us down?" Hermione asked. "Only, I'm feeling a bit faint."

Sirius obliged, grumbling about the ginger-headed mischief makers in fairly unflattering terms.

"You know, the best revenge is to tell their mother, Padfoot," Remus said once he and Hermione were upright once more.

"Oh, yes," Hermione agreed. "That should do the trick."

Sirius scowled. "I prefer a more…direct approach."

"Well, in that case, they have a small flat above their shop in Diagon…"

He was gone before she could say 'alley'.

Remus shook his head with a smile then looked down at her, saying, "Where were we? Ah yes…" before proceeding to make her forget everything unpleasant that had happened that day.

She wasn't about to complain.

* * *

Later that night, as Ron was hopping up the still-magicked stairs toward his room, he almost tripped over two neglected mugs in the middle of the hallway. With a small, knowing smile, he glanced into Hermione's room. His friend was curled around the broad figure of their former professor, both sleeping soundly.

The two were also decidedly lacking in clothing.

Closing the door, Ron smiled to himself, picked up the mugs, and placed them neatly to the side. Then he wended his way carefully toward his room, resolved never to tell his friends that their tea had been laced with an ingenious little plant he had discovered at the back of the twins' store.

It was the least he could do, after all, for being saved from becoming a hedgehog.

* * *

_As mentioned above, this is unbeta'd._

_In the event you actually WANT to be a twat about it, please do so under an actual penname. Otherwise, I shall consider you a f-ing coward & completely disregard your opinion because you don't exist to me._

_For those of you who enjoy it, thank you for reading._


End file.
